Coco Coolei, left, comforts a friend as they and others mourn the three victims of a triple murder in the 6700 block of south Chappel. (Antonio Perez, Chicago Tribune)

Abdullah Raheem Trull and his twin 16-year-old brother were standing on the street not far from Jackson Park when a red car pulled up and someone inside asked about buying some "loud," slang for marijuana.

“I told him no, man, and he just . . .got to shooting,” Trull said.

The boy said he ducked behind some cars in the 6700 block of South Chappel Avenue as the gunman sped off around 8:45 p.m. Wednesday, then looked around and saw his brother lying on the ground. “I saw my twin laid out, bleeding,” Raheem said. “I tried to help him but the police wouldn’t let me touch him.”

His brother, Abdullah Rasheed Trull, was shot in the temple and the thigh and was pronounced dead at 11:19 p.m. Wednesday after being taken to Northwestern Memorial Hospital.

Two other people who were standing with the boys were also shot and killed in Chicago's first triple homicide this year.

Darius Morris, 23, who lived on the block where the shooting occurred, was struck in the shoulder and died on the scene. Sylvester Solomon, 27, of the 6700 block of South Clyde Avenue, died at Stroger Hospital of wounds to the back and left arm.

Police said both Morris and Solomon had gang ties and no suspects were in custody. Sources said at least 11 shell cases from a 9mm gun were recovered.

The boys' mother, Lois Pickett, said Rasheed did not run with a gang and had been on Chappel Avenue visiting a girlfriend. He was always back home by his 10 p.m. curfew, she said.

"He would never do anything to hurt nobody. He didn’t deserve this.”

This is the second time she will be burying a young son in the last two years. In May of 2011, Pickett's 15-year-old son Tatioun Williams was shot by police when he allegedly pointed a gun at two sergeants investigating a robbery. Witnesses said Tatioun was walking with a 16-year-old boy when the sergeants ordered them to stop.

“I just got one message,” Pickett said through tears Thursday from her home. “I just want to tell people instead of killing our babies and not letting them grow up and live, why do they not go over there to where the war is and they can just kill anybody they want. . .Stop killing our kids. Stop killing our babies.”

Pickett said Rasheed "was a quiet person. He kept to himself. He let his twin do most of the talking because he was fairly shy.”

She said the twins ran a bike shop out of her garage, collecting money to help their other two siblings. At Rasheed's urging, she was hoping to move soon to Milwaukee, near relatives, to escape the violence in the neighborhood.

A few miles away at the shooting scene, building managers poured bleach on blood stains on the sidewalk. Residents along Chappel Avenue described the neighborhood as a mix of longtime residents, professionals and young people.

Darryl Turnbow, who said he manages the building where the shootings occurred, said trouble has been “brewing” on the street for awhile, with groups of teens and young adults congregating on the corner and in front of the building’s courtyard every night and day.

Turnbow said he frequently called police about the gathering, which sometimes made women in the building uncomfortable. Turnbow said he grew up near the site of the shootings and called it “sad” to watch the well-kept neighborhood near the lakefront explode with violence.

“The way today is, everybody has a gun, you know, everyone is a coward. It’s really sad. It’s really sad,” he said.

Kathleen Jackson, 55, who said she has lived on Chappel Avenue for 10 years with her family, said she had never seen such a violent crime before on her street, though her teenage son has been robbed walking home from the nearby bus stop.

Jackson, a development fundraiser, said she was home when the shootings occurred Wednesday night. Her husband called police.

“I looked out the window and saw these men laying on the sidewalk. I had never seen anything like that before in my life. I’m a little traumatized right now,” she said. “It’s sad. Something has to be done. It’s too much violence. You got these guys hanging out on the block and you don’t even know if they live here or not.”

Roheim Mooney, 32, who said he lives a block from the shooting scene and volunteers for the Chicago Urban League, said a lack of education and active police presence has helped the neighborhood deteriorate.

“They don’t put enough resources in our neighborhoods,” Mooney said. “These kids don’t have anything to do. They sit on the corner, they hang out, then stuff like this happens.”

Reporters Carlos Sadovi, Peter Nickeas and Jeremy Gorner contributed to this story